


The Problem with Princes

by A_Diamond



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dragons, Fantasy, Fusion - The Enchanted Forest Chronicles, M/M, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Princes & Princesses, Rating May Change, Wizards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 14:39:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11106666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Diamond/pseuds/A_Diamond
Summary: Castiel left the Kingdom of Haven because he had no interest in being a prince or socializing with princes. Living with the dragons of the Mountains of Purgatory suits him far better. He still has to deal with knights and princes trying to rescue him, and wizards trying to do whatever it is the wizards are up to at any given moment, but at least he doesn’t have to beniceto them. But when a particular pair of princes shows up, if Cas isn’t careful, they may end up destroying the life he’s built for himself.





	The Problem with Princes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [superhoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/superhoney/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, friend! Thanks for all the encouragement <3

The crystalline chiming of the ward announced two people at the mouth of the cave, catching Cas by surprise. He set down the jewel-encrusted dagger he’d been polishing and stood, then reconsidered and picked it up again. Eleanor had just left that morning for treaty negotiations with the sirens of the Sea of Sinking Sorrows, so the timing was a little too convenient if someone was looking to poke around her caverns and stir up trouble. Knowing Cas’s luck, it was probably wizards or knights.

The wizards had been keeping clear of the Mountains of Purgatory ever since they’d been caught trying to rig the Trials to make their traitorous dragon ally, Dick, the new King of the Dragons. Eleanor hadn’t had a chance to eat any of them after rightfully completing the Trials and becoming the King of the Dragons, but they knew her teeth, and those of all the other dragons, were just snapping for the chance. Most of them had also decided it was safest to give Cas a wide berth, human though he was, but Head Wizard Zachariah kept pushing his luck whenever he could catch Cas alone. He was bound to know Eleanor had left; wizards always seemed to know when they were least wanted.

Glory-seeking knights determined to “rescue” the “dragon-napped” Prince Castiel, on the other hand, wouldn’t know he was alone unless they’d been watching. But Eleanor always did a flyover before she left, and she would have warned him if someone were lurking. And most of the knights didn’t want to avoid the dragon; slaying the “evil beast” who “held him captive” was part of their goal. They still had an uncanny ability to show up at the least convenient times, so he wouldn’t rule it out.

Either way, chances were good he’d have to threaten or actually commit violence to get some peace before he could finish cleaning and cataloguing the new weapons in the vault, so the dagger could work to his advantage.

When he reached the last corner of the hallway leading to the entrance cave and peered around the rounded stone wall, he very nearly turned around to shut himself back in the vault. It was far worse than knights or wizards: it was princes. Two princes, which was unusual. Knights infrequently came in pairs, but princes were solitary, proud creatures who were just as stubborn about getting all the fame—and the entire half of Haven promised to whosoever “saved” the “enslaved prince”—as they were about trying to save Cas when he was really quite sure he didn’t need saving, thank you.

His own inability to tolerate other princes and their self-absorption had been part of what drove Prince Castiel to escape the palace where he’d grown up but never really fit in. He was much happier becoming just Cas after stumbling into the Mountains of Purgatory and meeting the dragons, who appreciated his practicality and forthrightness far more than Haven’s court ever had. His parents had been sending “saviours” after him ever since, and the reward for his rescue had grown as he refused each new attempt.

Cas had become quite good at sending would-be suitors on their way himself. Most of them listened when he explained for the third or fourth time that he had come to the dragons of his own free will and was very intent on staying there. Of the remaining thick-headed lot who didn’t care about his wishes, some he had to actually fight off himself and some Eleanor snagged by the scruff and flew out to drop in the Moving Meadows. They never returned to pester him after either of those eventualities.

And it was princes who most often required the forceful sort of dissuasion, particularly younger princes who didn’t have a throne waiting for them and felt they had something to prove; or worse, something to earn. And both of the men peering into the foyer of Eleanor’s caverns wore circlets of gold instead of full crowns, which suggested they were just that sort.

They had to have reached some sort of arrangement, since only one of them could marry him and only one of them could rule a kingdom newly formed of half Cas’s parents’ lands. He did wonder if his father would allow those rewards to be split, and suspected not. So there must have been some other promise of reward for whoever wasn’t trying to claim his hand and dowry.

The prince on the left was taller and broader than the other, though they were both bigger than Cas himself. His bulk might once have impressed Cas, but spending years living with dragons meant that time had long since passed. Even the largest human only came up to Eleanor’s shoulder. Though plainly colored beneath the dust of travel, the prince’s clothes were clearly of fine material and well made.

The crown atop his long, brown hair was braided gold wire, with a large stone set over his brow and smaller ones woven in along his temples. The yellow-brown-green flash of them could have been peridot or tourmaline, or maybe even a beryl variant; since Cas wasn’t currently inspecting it for Eleanor’s treasure logs, he didn’t care.

The second prince, dressed much the same as the first, wore a plainer crown, its band solid gold and twice as broad as Cas’s thumb. Where the first prince appeared to be unarmed—another unusual and surprising occurrence, though if he was a poor fighter it could explain their partnership—the second boasted a sword and sheath that reeked of magic even from a distance.

Cas himself favored a thin silver circlet when he absolutely had to wear a symbol of his station, but he nearly always went without entirely. So it was that he greeted the pair of princes with only a scowl, a smudge of ink across his chin, a bared dagger in his hand, and no patience for niceties.

“What?”

Both of them started at his sudden appearance and gruffness, but the tall one recovered first. He smoothed the surprise off his face in an instant, while the other kept frowning at Cas in confusion. That settled the question in his mind; the second one was the brawn, convinced to come along to help, but the first prince was likely to be the one who wanted to win Cas and the kingdom that came with him.

Sure enough, the first prince bobbed his head in a princely half-bow and said, “We’re here for the King of the Dragons.”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon?” the prince said less confidently, thrown.

“You’re not going to see Eleanor. I deal with my own princes and I don’t want to be rescued. Thank you for your understanding. You should leave now.”

“I think—” started the prince, but his companion stepped in front of him to interrupt, looking vexed. His eyes, the same color as the taller one’s crown jewels, bored into Cas.

“We’re not here to rescue anyone, asshole, we just need to talk to King Eleanor. Also, who the hell are you?”

It was Cas’s turn to be taken aback. That wasn’t how princes usually talked to him, even after he’d been terribly rude to them. Given the way the first prince deferred to the second, looking to him when he finally spoke up, Cas may have misjudged their relationship. In fact, if they really didn’t know who he was, he was starting to think he’d misjudged the entire situation.

He crossed his arms, dagger still in hand but tucked less threateningly against his side. “King Eleanor is away at the moment. I’m Cas, her princess. What do you need to see her for?”

Rather than answering, the brash prince looked him up and down. Cas knew what was coming even before he opened his mouth past a smirk to ask, “Princess?”

“It’s a job title,” he snapped.

He got that reaction from attempted rescuers often enough that the other dragons’ princesses, all of whom were actual princesses and all of whom actually wanted to be rescued, thought he should just take to calling himself Eleanor’s prince instead. But he wasn’t about to start pandering to a human society he wasn’t even part of anymore, just because they had ideas about set gender roles.

“To the dragons, being a princess has no more to do with being female than being a king has to do with being male. Eleanor’s not Queen of the Dragons, after all.”

They stared at each other.

Cas had over two years of experience staring down giant, recalcitrant creatures with sharp teeth and flaming breath; the prince broke first.

“Okay,” he said, trying on a smile, “you’re not a princess—or you are a princess, but not a  _ princess _ —and we’re not here to rescue you. I think we got off on the wrong foot, here. Can we try that again?” When Cas nodded, he bowed; a proper bow, not the quick duck the other prince had given. “My name is Dean. I’m the King of the Supernatural Forest. This is my brother, Sam. We really need to speak with King Eleanor, will she be back soon?”

Cas allowed himself to continue staring and scowling as he processed that. The Supernatural Forest was a physically close neighbor, uncounted acres that stretched from the base of the Mountains of Purgatory all the way to the Salty Sea, but not one the dragons had a relationship with. Cas’s lack of recognition was evidence enough of that. Neither Dean nor Sam had attended Eleanor’s coronation, when even the isolationist werepires had sent a sullenly shrouded prince to pass along their respects.

Their visit now clearly wasn’t a social nicety. But at least Dean was likely telling the truth about not trying to rescue him; the Supernatural Forest was several orders of magnitude larger than the Kingdom of Haven, and also significantly more interesting. If he cared about obtaining and ruling land that wasn’t even connected to his own, he was too much of a fool to have survived to adulthood in what was, by all accounts, a semi-sentient landscape of capricious dangers.

That decided it for him. “You should have said that to begin with. Come inside.”

“So King Eleanor is here?” Sam asked as they followed Cas.

“No, but I can make tea while you tell me what you need to talk to her about. I may be able to help, or send you to someone who can.”

“Look,” said Dean, starting to sound annoyed again, “I appreciate that, but I really don’t want to discuss it with anyone but—hold on, what? There’s no way a dragon lives here.”

Cas had led them into the smaller of the two kitchen caves, which was human-sized with human-sized furnishings. His back was to the two men, so he didn’t have to hide his exasperated glance to the ceiling at that obvious statement.

“Most humans find this room more comfortable than the king’s reception hall. But if it’s offending your sense of self-importance, we can go stand in a room designed to hold two hundred dragons instead. We’ll have to get one of the younger dragons to act as a runner, since I doubt you have the lung capacity to make yourself heard shouting from one side to the other, but it’s good to keep them occupied.”

Cas had filled the kettle and set it to heat by the time he realized the silence was stretching unusually long. A glance showed Dean and Sam stopped in their tracks, gaping at him. Thinking back on his last statement, he could see that it might have come across as slightly rude. But they didn’t say anything, just stared. Honestly, this was why he preferred dragons. He never had to wonder if he’d offended a dragon; either they were breathing fire or they weren’t.

“That may have been worded poorly. Forgive me. I’ve been with the dragons for years. My ‘people’ skills are... rusty.”

Sam blinked and opened his mouth, but Dean erupted into laughter before he could speak. Entirely against his will, Cas found himself enjoying the sound. Dragon laughter was more of a roar than anything else, and the other princesses kept their amusement confined to delicate titters hidden bashfully behind fans or handkerchiefs. Except Muriel, who was occasionally caught by surprise with a snort and then stopped laughing entirely in mortification. Dean laughed with his whole body and a man’s voice, and it was... pleasant. Cas hadn’t heard an unselfconscious human laugh since before he left Haven.

“Do you really talk to dragons like that?” Dean asked after he caught his breath. “Without getting eaten?”

“No one’s tried to eat me since my first week. Eleanor made it clear she wouldn’t have it. My fireproofing spell has been tested a few times, though mostly by accident. But yes,” he said, seeing Dean about to pick up on that tangent, “dragons appreciate honesty.”

“Even from their princesses?” Dean’s eyes sparkled just like the gems in Sam’s crown when he winked at Cas, who suddenly cared a lot more about identifying the stones so he could make a proper comparison.

It infuriated him, so he let Dean get away with the teasing and turned his attention back to the tea. He’d made it this far in life without the least bit of interest in vapid princes and simpering princesses, he wasn’t about to be taken in by the charms of a king. No matter how handsome and irreverent.

Two mugs poured, he asked, “Do you like honey? The bees are having a very productive spring, I just collected a new jar yesterday.”

“Please,” said Dean, and Sam said, “You have bees?”

Cas brought the whole jar and a spoon to the table, setting it between the mugs and smiling at Sam. “I do. I learned the skill as a child, though my parents put a stop to it once they found out. Apparently it’s not an acceptably princely hobby. But Eleanor let me start new hives when I got here. I could take you to see them?”

A flash of excitement lit Sam’s face, then faded just as quickly. “Some other time,” he deferred, though he didn’t sound hopeful; he knew as well as Cas how unlikely that was. Whatever they had come for probably wasn’t going to be repeated.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, also solemn. “So, it sounds like King Eleanor’s not going to be back soon?”

“Unlikely. And if she is back within a few days, it will be in a terrible mood. She’s gone to negotiations with the sirens; it’ll only take less than a week if it’s bad news.”

“Shit,” said Dean, continuing his streak of not-entirely-kingly behavior. Cas found it refreshing but absolutely not endearing. Similarly, the way he rolled his eyes when Sam elbowed him. “We don’t have a week.”

Cas sat across from them, taking a sip of his own tea before saying, “You keep saying you have an urgent problem, but haven’t gotten around to telling me what it is.”

Dean looked away and said, “Wizards.”

“They’re causing trouble in the Supernatural Forest, too? We’ve had our own troubles with those ass—”

With a deliberate cough loud enough to cover Cas’s voice, Sam nodded his head to the mouth of the kitchen cave and said, “No, he means: wizards.”

Cas’s chair scraped angrily against the stone floor as he surged to his feet and turned. He couldn’t believe he’d been so distracted that Zachariah could slip through the wards unnoticed. Although Dean and Sam hadn’t reacted to the alert, either, and surely all three of them wouldn’t have missed it.

If the wizards had found a way to bypass his protection spells—trouble would be an understatement.

Zachariah smiled blandly from the corridor. Behind him, Metatron, Cas’s second-least-favorite wizard, looked far too smug for comfort. They could have been inside undetected since Cas started the tea, wreaking havoc in the sections of the caverns closer to the entrance. He’d have to find out how they snuck in—maybe the visitors from the Supernatural Forest had been up to something after all, just not anything to do with his rescue-slash-kidnapping. He hoped not, purely because it would prove diplomatically inconvenient for Eleanor. It had nothing to do with Dean personally, or the way his smile lit up a room that had never seen sunlight.

“Please, Prince Castiel, don’t let me interrupt,” Zachariah oozed. “What were you saying about wizards?”

“That you’re scheming assbutts with no respect for anyone but yourselves.”

Cas had left the dagger on the counter when they got to the kitchen. He picked it up, not bothering to be subtle about it. His enmity wasn’t news for the wizards, though Dean and Sam might take exception to violence in their presence. Once again, he hoped not. Cas did want to help them with their problem, as long as they were being honest; he just had to deal with his own problem first.

He pointed the dagger at Zachariah, but didn’t move close enough to make it a physical threat. “Get out.”

Zachariah spread his arms in a peaceable gesture that tapped his greasy-looking wooden staff against the walls. The dry rap of it made Cas wince and add another line to his list of things to do once he had the caverns to himself again. If they hadn’t tampered with the wards and protections before, that ‘accidental’ touch was undoubtedly a poor cover for something nasty. Nothing good ever came from a wizard’s staff.

“Must you be so hostile, Castiel? We’re only trying to extend the hand of friendship, yet—”

Cas spun the dagger to slash across his own palm and several things happened at once:

Zachariah stopped talking as he and Metatron tensed; Cas had banished them more than a few times, and from the way Metatron had bitched about it after the first time Cas had learned and used the spell, it was not a pleasant experience for them. In Cas’s book, that just made it twice as useful. Unfortunately, the adverse effects hadn’t yet been enough to discourage them from showing up where they weren’t wanted. Fortunately, just getting rid of them was enough to make the banishment spell worth Cas’s energy and pain.

At the same time, two distinct scrapes and clatters signaled Dean and Sam abandoning their seats. They both made noises that were probably words, but Cas didn’t bother trying to interpret them. His attention was split between the wizards and the sudden increase of magical pressure from behind him. Some of it felt the same as Dean’s sword, only stronger; some of it didn’t. He could only hope that whatever they were doing was going to be in his favor, because he couldn’t banish the wizards if he was fighting off the princes and he wouldn’t stand a chance fighting the princes if the wizards were still there. Princes, king and prince, whatever.

Also simultaneously, a roar thundered through the cavern. Before Cas could turn to see who else had joined them unannounced, a pillar of flame engulfed him and the world disappeared into fire.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't complete, and likely won't get another chapter until Brighter Than the Milky Way is done—at least a month. But I wanted to post it while it was still the right day, and _someone_ didn't give me much warning!


End file.
